


When a Mage Gets Sick

by TheCookieOfDoom



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Fluffy, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: Anduin entered the room just in time to almost be burnt to a crisp."Was that fire?""Yes..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> The to-do list of fics for this ship keep growing, light help me. I'm almost done with a modern witch fic though, I think. So keep an eye out for To Whom This Book May Find for the next 2 weeks.  
> (Also, happy Mabon, to those who know what it is ^~^ I'm going to end up celebrating it tomorrow, but I made some great bread today and it was awesome!!!)

“Was that fire?”

“Yes…”

_ Anduin _ , Taria had said, pushing a bowl of savory, steaming liquid into his hands once he was close enough. _ Khadgar is sick, poor boy. Please take the next day or two off and care for him. I believe a familiar face may do him good as he heals.  _ He didn’t like to take sick days, for himself or on behalf of others, but since it was Khadgar, he would make an exception. That was how he’s ended up inside the mage’s room just in time to almost be burnt to a crisp by a sudden, unexpected burst of fire from the bedridden young man.

“Why are you breathing fire?”

“I’m not-not breathing-” before he could finish speaking, he was cut off by another round of coughing, bursts of fire licking past his lips with every body-wracking exhalation. He did his best to cover his mouth to control the flames, but they still escaped past his fingers despite his attempts. Khadgar, at least, had the grace to look sheepish once it finally stopped.

“Are you a dragon?” Anduin asked, finding that to be the only reasonable explanation for why  _ fire was coming out of Khadgar’s mouth.  _ Besides, he wouldn’t be the first dragon to secretly masquerade as a mage from the Kirin Tor.

“No, I am a mage. You know that.”

“A mage that breathes fire.”

“I’m not breathing fire.”

“You’re breathing fire just like a dragon, Khadgar. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Alright, maybe a little bit…”

He coughed again, not as wracking as before, and only some small flames escaped just past his chapped lips this time. He looked up at Anduin from where he lay curled up on his bed, like a pitiful puppy, blanket cocooned around him. With a sigh, Anduin walked over to him and sat down beside the huddled form, brushing Khadgar’s hair back with his free hand. Almost immediately, he jerked it back , his miffed expression turning to one of worry.

“Light, you’re burning up.”

“Yes, I,” more coughing, more fire. “I noticed,” he finished weakly, voice hoarse and rough like that of a dragon whose throat was used to a lifetime of fire.

“Here. My sister has sent me to feed and take care of you until you recover.” He helped Khadgar sit up, before thrusting the bowl of steaming broth into his hands, which Khadgar took gratefully.

As he tentatively sipped the broth, Anduin got up and left him alone, not returning until he had acquired a pitcher of cold water. By that point, Khadgar was back to curling up in his blanket, taking what little comfort he could from it, having assumed Anduin left him to recover alone. And why wouldn’t he? Who would want to subject themselves to caring for the sick when they didn’t personally need to. He was pleasantly surprised to see the man returning with a pitcher in one hand, a bowl of herbs in the other.

Setting both items down on the table beside the bed, Anduin poured a cup of water for Khadgar, then poured some into a small basin for washing. He sat back down on the chair he’d pulled over to the bed, taking some of the herbs and wrapping them up in a cloth, before soaking that in the basin of water.

Khadgar watched curiously, reaching over to pick up the cup and try to drink it without spilling any on himself while still laying down, as Anduin soaked the cloth through and wrung it out. He had no idea what the herbs were, but he assumed they had some kind of healing properties. The scent was pleasant, at least, so it didn’t bother him when Anduin unwound the cloth and folded it instead, before pressing it over his burning brow. He closed his eyes, sighing at the coolness on his heated skin. 

“So, fire breathing,” Anduin said after a few minutes, prompting Khadgar to open his eyes and look over at him, clearly seeing that the man wanted an explanation. 

“When someone catches a cold, their body temperature rises to burn off the sickness.” He took a few moments to cough, wheezing softly as he caught his breath. “That’s what mine is doing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but normal people don’t breathe fire when they get sick.”

“Normal people don’t have magic coursing through them.”

“So what you’re saying is when you’re sick, you breathe fire.”

Khadgar sighed softly, finally relenting. “When i have a fever, yes, you could say i breathe fire.”

“Why do mages have to be so,” he trailed off, shaking his head as he removed the cloth to soak again, and add more herbs, before putting it back in place.

“So  _ what _ ?” Khadgar asked, frowning slightly. Anduin just sighed, shaking his head again as he gestured to Khadgar. 

“So odd.”

Khadgar just ‘humphed’, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. The young mage was clearly exhausted. WHo know how much, or rather how little, sleep he’d been getting. 

“Move over,” Anduin finally said after some thought, standing up. When Khadgar just looked at him with a confused frown, he rolled his eyes and bodily shifted the mage, before climbing into the bed with him. He wrapped his arms around Khadgar’s burning body, holding him to his broad chest with his head tucked under his chin. By the soft sound of contentment, Anduin knew that Khadgar was comfortable with the arrangement, and that was made even more evident as the young man huddled closer to him. 

“You seem to know what you’re doing with that,” Khadgar mumbled against him, voice muffled, as Anduin again re-soaked the cloth and held it to his skin so that it would stay in place. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice caring for Callan whenever he was sick growing up.” He pressed his lips to Khadgar’s hair in a soft kiss. “Now get some rest, sell-chucker. You need to regain your strength before you burn down the city.”

A weak laugh answered him, followed by more fits of coughing and the scent of burning leather. Looking down, Anduin saw that his tunic had been singed, but didn’t say anything about it. He just stroked Khadgar’s hair and rubbed his shoulder, comforting him through it, and eventuallu exhaustion overcame Khadgar, allowing him to finally fall asleep in Anduin’s arms peacefully. Or as peaceful as a sick, firebreathing mage could be.

When Khadgar was fully recovered a few days later, Anduin returned to his post. And when he saw the knowing smirk king Llane gave him as he tried to discreetly hide a cough, all he could growl out was, “not a word.”

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Llane had said, smirk widening into a wolfish grin.


End file.
